


oil smudged

by jackgyeoms



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern: No Powers, Art Student Remus, Fluff, Genderfluid Sirius, M/M, Model Sirius
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-04
Updated: 2015-06-04
Packaged: 2018-04-02 21:39:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,504
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4074784
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jackgyeoms/pseuds/jackgyeoms
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>modern au where remus is an art student and sirius is an unwitting model.</p>
            </blockquote>





	oil smudged

**Author's Note:**

> so this was based on a post made by [bisexualremuslupin](http://bisexualremuslupin.tumblr.com) about a university wolfstar au
> 
> unbeta'd so all mistakes are my own.

 

Remus saw him and his fingers itched to sketch. For a moment, that very feeling was startling – it was something that had become almost alien to him, so long since he could honestly say he’d felt it – and then the next, he was scrambling for paper and pencil. It wasn’t the time or the place really – the coffee shop was tiny, and busy enough that he’d had to ask to join another couple just to have a place to sit down. He nearly elbowed his hot chocolate off the table in his urgency, drawing bewildered eyes, but he couldn’t bring himself to care too much when finally, pencil met paper and something _good_ happened.

It was his final year, the final project deadline was encroaching and Remus was hopelessly uninspired. He’d spent days just sitting staring at the blank page on his sketch book, or at an unmarked canvas, and wishing for something to come to him. The pray hadn’t been answered until now. Now, the curves of a face came easy - the swirl of curls, the angle a nose, a swooping neck and broad shoulders. His eyes flickered towards the man, who took long strides in boots that jingled, and back to his page and back again. The stranger was unaware of him, thankfully, although Remus wasn’t sure whether it was because he didn’t want to get caught staring, or didn’t want the man’s relaxed expression to break in the middle of transferring it to page.

Remus drew the lapel on his leather jacket, and noted the clipped gold nail polish on his fingers. He scribbled a note in the margin to remember that, but he doubted he would forget so easily. Those hands shoved into his back pockets as he waited, and Remus was perhaps a little ashamed to admit just how long he spent committing the sight to the page.

When he looked up, the couple he’d shared the table with were gone. He blinked at their empty spaces, barely registering, and then lifted his gaze to find his inspiration again. It wasn’t there. Remus stared a little longer, as if expecting the male to just materialise out of nowhere, but alas, the space was inhabited by other customers, the cue considerably shorter than Remus remembered it being.

Disappointment curled in his gut, and Remus swallowed it. He looked to the page, at the unfinished sketch. He was sure that he could finish it from memory without much trouble. Desperate to finish while he still felt the hum of inspiration, Remus shoved his sketchbook into his bag and left, leaving his now cold drink on the table.

It was at about three am, when he was drowsy from tiredness and his hands stained with oils that Remus decided that no, one sketch, it wouldn’t be enough. He needed to see this stranger from different angles, in different positions. He needed profiles and images with grins, with frowns, with a close up of the eyes that Remus had only managed to see briefly.

It never occurred to him that, perhaps, the man wouldn’t want to help Remus until he’d been sitting at one of the tables of the coffee shop for near on three hours. It was then that nerves arose and Remus found himself squirming and tapping his fingers on the table top. His heart would leap in his chest when the bell above the door rang, and then drop, iced, when the face was not the one he was looking for.

The barista, Lily, brought him another drink when the next hour struck, and Remus smiled gratefully. Cupping the drink in the palms of his hand, the warmth seeping through, he inhaled the scent of chocolate and caramel, and was once again reminded why this coffee shop, of all the others, was his favourite.

“You got a date or something?” Lily wondered, her pink painted lips tugged into a smile.

Remus flushed and returned it shyly. “Um, no, not exactly. I…I’m looking for someone.”

She arched an eyebrow questioningly and waited. He sighed, a little embarrassed, and then elaborated, “Okay, so there’s this guy. He was here yesterday, about this time, and just – I want to draw him.”

“According to Alice, you already did,” Lily commented, and Remus’ ears pinked at the tips. “She said that she started her shift and you were crouched over that sketchbook of yours until her break. This stranger must be gorgeous to grab your attention like that.”

“I’ve been blocked for a while, and I don’t know,” Remus murmured and gave a small shrug, “He was, but I don’t think that was why.” He paused, and reached for his sketchbook, opened the page to the completed work and eyed it thoughtfully, “I can’t really explain it.”

Lily hummed distractedly, and when Remus rose his gaze to look at her, she had this strange look in her eye. He thought, perhaps, that maybe she knew something, but even after knowing Lily since the start of their undergraduate courses, he hadn’t been able to fully read her. It was something that Lily prided herself in. She had been the focus of his portrait project during the first term. She noticed him looking after a while, her eyes darting to him and a smile pulling her lips. “Can I…?”

Remus allowed her, of course, and watched her face as her eyebrows pulled together for a moment and her lips pressed together. It wasn’t a bad expression, he realised for a moment, after fear that she might not like it tightened in his gut. She was trying not to laugh. “What?” he bit out, hoped he didn’t sound as harsh to her as he did to his own ears.

Lily looked at him with amusement dancing in her eyes. “It’s a good likeliness.”

“Thank you,” he found himself saying and then after a pause, “Wait, you know him?”

“Sirius prefers the pronoun they,” Lily informed him, and Remus barely had time to file that information away before his heart leapt excitedly in his chest and he asked, “How?”

“Six years of secondary school, two years of sixth form and two years of university,” Lily told him. She smirked at him, maybe finding humour in his no doubt wondered facial expression. She took another moment to examine the work before handing it back and offering, “I can introduce you if you like?”

Remus didn’t know if he was going to kiss her or not. He didn’t know whether it showed on his face either, but he guessed it did, because she laughed, a joyful titter that rocked her whole body and had her hair fly over one side of her face. She brushed the loose strands behind her ear and said, over her shoulder as she began to leave, “I’ll take that as a yes. Just remember that you owe me.”

She’d never bring him up on that debt, but he would pay up all the same. “You’re a goddess among mere mortals,” he called after her.

She sent him a winning smile in return. “Drink your hot chocolate,” she ordered, “And go home and sleep. You look like death warmed over.”

He did as asked and when he made to leave, smacked a kiss to her temple. Her chuckles followed him out.

 

-

 

Remus got her text when he woke up. **_Yours. Friday, 6pm._** No other information, but he didn’t really need it. The meaning was obvious, even if it did take a few minutes for his sleep addled brain to catch up. His heart leapt excitedly in his chest and he clumsily typed out a plethora of gratitude to her. He could just hear the amusement in her reply – **_just don’t tell him I used the word ‘gorgeous’ about him. Sirius’ ego is already big enough as it is. According to James, he can’t shut up about being an ‘artist’s inspiration’._**

Eagerness consumed him for days. It had been so long that he hadn’t walked around with the looming promise of failure over his head. When his art professor came to him, worry creased in her features, he brushed off her concern with a promise that next lesson. Next lesson he would have something to show.

But then Friday came, and the hours ticked away the rising anxiousness that curled tighter and tighter in his stomach. He couldn’t keep still – foot tapping an inconstant beat on the hardwood floors, ones that he had swept, mopped and swept once more for good measure. He chewed on his fingernails and looked to the time on his phone way too often. He’d tidied his work area, and then moved the easel to the other side of the apartment under the insistence that the light was better over there. An hour later, it was back in the original spot because what had he been thinking?

Remus was wiping down a surface in his kitchen when there was a knock at the door. He stopped, and for a moment, he had to remind himself to breathe. Was it six already? His eyes jumped wildly to the clock. No, it wasn’t. He still had five minutes. Sirius was early. Why hadn’t he considered that was a possibility? He realised he had remained still for too long, and there was a door to answer. His socks slipped and slid across the floor in his haste, and he fumbled with the locks for a moment before he finally managed to swing the door open.

Remus wondered what sort of state he looked, flustered with disinfectant smelling fingers, but that thought was pushed to the side quickly to full take in Sirius. Their body was slumped casually, one hand shoved into his jacket pocket, but Remus could see the way his eyes widened a fraction as if surprised. Their bottom lip fell from where it had been held in a cage of teeth, reddened and slightly wet. Remus focused on that a little longer than he should have. Black curls slipped into his line of vision, and Remus watched as the man pushed it back with long fingers. His nails were purple today, Remus noted absentmindedly.

“Um, Remus right?” he offered, “I’m Sirius. Lily’s friend.”

In his mind, Remus had nodded, smiled and invited them inside. Thanked them for agreeing to this, apologised for drawing their likeness without permission – pointed out how creepy it must have been. He imagined Sirius laughing it off, reassurance offered. Lead to the stool and the easel and work would begin. In reality, Remus remained silent for a fraction to long, enough for the smile to dip at the edges slightly, and then he blurted, “You’re early.”

Sirius blinked once, and their smiled strained slightly. They gestured behind them. “I can come back later, if you’d prefer.”

It all sounded very final, a mocking insult that, should Remus not rectify, he’d be hearing about from Lily in the most awkward encounter in all history. “No, it’s, I was just getting ready for you, and,” he breathed out heavily, “Sorry, I didn’t mean to make it sounded like – I’m really grateful you came.”

Sirius shrugged. “Well, Lilypad insisted.”

Remus’ lips quirked a little with amusement. “Lilypad? How are you not dead yet?”

Sirius seemed to relax then, and winked when they said, “She acts all tough, but she’d be lost without me.”

“Hmm, yes you can tell that from just a conversation with her,” Remus feigned, nodding seriously.

Sirius snorted, pleased and leant forward just a little to whisper as if conspiratorially, “Don’t mentioning it to James yea? I love the idiot, wouldn’t want to break his little heart.”

Remus traced a cross on his chest and looked solemn. Sirius broke into a grin, one that Remus had to return, even if it made his cheeks ache. They were even better up close. From here, Remus could see the angles on their face, could see the faint touch of stubble growing through. He could see that their nose was at an odd angle, had probably been broken once in the past.  He could see how prominent their Adam’s apple actually was, and how sharp their collarbones were beneath the low collar of their tank top. Like before, that sensation to draw rushed back to him, and he shifted from foot to foot impatiently.

“Would you like to come in?” Remus questioned.

Sirius’ gaze flicked to the space behind Remus’ head, to him once more. Eyes dragged down pointedly, and Remus allowed it with as much decorum as he could manage. When their eyes locked once more, Remus arched on eyebrow, silently asking if they were satisfied, and Sirius hummed. “That’s what I’m here for, I suppose. Lily was very insistent. Apparently, I _had_ to meet you.”

“You didn’t have to,” Remus said quickly, wondered briefly whether they even wanted to be here or whether it was all Lily. Merlin, he hoped that she hadn’t pressured Sirius into coming here. Somehow that seemed worse than them just not showing up all together.

“Nah, I didn’t,” Sirius agreed, “But the way she spoke of you, it made me want to.”

It was said quietly, with meaning only thinly veiled. Remus hoped that he wasn’t thinking too much into it, but couldn’t stop the flush that crawled from the back of his neck, tinting the skin pink. “I hope I haven’t disappointed,” he quipped back, tried not to stumble over any of his words.

Sirius’ lips curled upwards once more, and this time it felt more sensual than any before. It made Remus want to stare more than before, and that he decided, that it what he wanted to paint. That look. Those lips. This feeling. “I can’t say you have,” he replied lightly.

Remus shrugged with one shoulder. “Night’s still young,” he pointed out.

Sirius huffed a laugh. He said, “Guess I better join then. Won’t be much of a night with me on this side of the door, will it?”

“Suppose not,” Remus mumbled, and stepped aside. He swung his arm dramatically backwards, just for Sirius’ pleasure. Inwardly, he hoped nothing was out of place. More strongly than before, he wanted to make a good impression. He didn’t think too much into what that meant. Art, he reminded himself firmly, and then, shutting the door with a firm thud behind him, asked whether Sirius wanted to see the original work.

“Since it’s you,” he finished.

“Since it’s me,” Sirius echoed agreement, and Remus tried not to look as if he was scrambling. Because he didn’t. He may have hurried, perhaps, just a little, but there was no _scrambling_. Because that was undignified. He would admit though, that he found it difficult to meet Sirius’ gaze when he finally presented the sketchbook forward. This wasn’t just showing his art off, this was showing the subject, and with Sirius, it felt like something more important than that.

There was a long moment of silence. Remus rubbed once sock clad foot against his calf, dipped his head to watch the way his toes curled in them before it became too much, and he found himself saying carefully, “So? Do I have your approval?”

“Approval?” Sirius repeated the word, “Bloody hell, you have more than that. This is brilliant!”

Remus felt hot, and watched the profile of Sirius’ face closely. No sign of deception. His face was too expressive for that. “Thank you,” he mumbled. He scratched the fine hair at the back of his neck. “I had a wonderful model.”

“Well yeah,” Sirius agreed sarcastically. They were grinning at Remus now, and Remus was staring. “But you shouldn’t sell yourself short. You’re a good artist.”

He darkened from pink to red, and wondered whether it was that obvious. Probably was.

“Okay, I’ve decided,” Sirius declared after a moment, “I’ll do it.”

“Do it?” Remus parroted. He tried to stop his mind from leaping to filthier corners, he did try.

“I’ll let you draw me. For your end of year project? Lily mentioned it,” Sirius reminded, and Remus forced his brain to lurch forward. Yes, art. That was much better.

“Really? You will? I, thank you,” Remus tried not to gush, but failed. That smile was back, and that light in his eyes, amused and knowing and cocky, that son of a bitch. Remus might have been resentful of that in any other situation, but this one, Merlin he wanted it to stay right there.

“My pleasure,” Sirius’ words rolled like a purr in his ears.

Remus asked, “Would you be okay with starting now?” and Sirius responded with, “Where do you want me?”

“By the easel,” he instructed, gestured in that general direction. Sirius’ boots made thumping footfalls that seemed to echo around the open space. The chains jangled against his thighs. Remus dragged a stool from the kitchenette behind him, and took a long moment to rearrange it in the best place. Small turns until the lowering sun hit the edges just right, and Remus hummed with satisfaction. He stepped back and gathered pencils and paints that desperately needed to be replaced, something that he was suddenly aware of it. It wouldn’t matter, he told himself, but still couldn’t help stealing a glance at Sirius, perched, feet rested against one of the rungs and legs wrapped around the legs, as if he would somehow notice his poor supplies.

Sirius seemed unaware, smiled sweetly at him and twiddled their thumbs as if to signify patient waiting. Remus’ smile was easy. He continued on, a little lighter, set everything out carefully before settling into his own stool.

“So how about this?” Sirius pulled an atrocious pose, one that was designed to draw laughter and succeeded.

“I don’t think the world is quite ready for that,” Remus teased, “Just relax. Take a breath. Act natural.”

“How am I supposed to act natural when I know you’re watching me?” Sirius griped.

“Just pretend I’m not here,” Remus suggested. Sirius looked unimpressed so he continued, “Just…think of something else. Something that…makes you happy.”

They sighed overdramatically, made a show of folding their arms, closing their eyes and thinking. Remus waited, waited for features to relax and lines to smooth. Waited until lips slipped into their natural angle, and eyes fluttered open with a distance look. Remus found himself observing, taking in the sight so perfect in front of him, before the itch to draw was too much to ignore. The pencils knocked together sharply in the silence.

Then, the only sounds were breathing and the scratching of pencil against paper.

 

-

 

“It’s good,” Sirius announced happily, nodding enough that Remus could see it even from where they now lingered near his shoulder.

Remus’ face screwed up a little as he observed the sketch. “It needs more work,” he admitted, “I just can’t get the look in your eye right.” He rubbed granite into his cheek when he scratched there thoughtfully.

Sirius hummed, leant in closer. Remus stopped breathing just for a second, when loose strands of hair brushed his cheek and hot breathe warmed his skin. Throat dry, he swallowed around the tightness in his throat. If it were obvious, Sirius didn’t react to it. “I guess,” he drawled out, “we’ll have to schedule another meeting then. So you can get it right.”

“Aaaa,” Remus tried to speak and when that didn’t work, he just nodded. It was fine, because Sirius just continued, the tone of his voice an obvious attempt to remain casual. “And maybe we could get a pizza in. Maybe a few drinks. A movie.”

“It…does help me draw better,” Remus stumbled over his agreement, and smiled shyly.

Sirius grinned widely, but the relief in their voice was enough to realise that maybe Remus wasn’t the only one affected by the others presence. Thank god for that. “Then I guess we have to. For art.”

“It would be stupid of us not to really,” Remus added onto the end.

“Art would be ashamed of us,” Sirius latched on.

“And we wouldn’t want. Art will just become more difficult to live with,” Remus continued.

Sirius huffed a laugh, opened his mouth, paused and then frowned a little. “I…have run out of art related things to say. Can I just kiss you?”

“Bit forward isn’t it?” Remus asked, tried to play it cool even as he had to press his hands into his lap to stop them from shaking so visibly.

Sirius shrugged. “YOLO.”

Remus groaned loudly, pressed his face into his hands and said, “If you say that again, I’m kicking you out.”

“Without a goodbye kiss?” Sirius questioned cheekily.

“Almost certainly,” Remus told him firmly.

Sirius laughed again, a wonderful sight, and looked at him fondly. “Consider it forgotten,” was given as a promise, and a hand cupped his jaw. The hold was sure, confident, when it encouraged Remus’ head to tilt so lips could close over his.

They had been distracting to look at but, Remus decided, they were much better to kiss.

 

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading, let me know what you think! 
> 
> i have tumblr @kingsleiyer


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